


First-Rate Misery

by midlygay



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, One Shot, Saeran Angst, Saeran's Past, Unknown (Mystic Messenger) Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midlygay/pseuds/midlygay
Summary: After Saeyoung left, any hopes Saeran had of escaping his mother are extinguished. There's an unexpected savior waiting for Saeran, but he has to save himself from his mother first. He didn't know he had it in him to...Happy Mother's Day! We don't know much about Momma Choi, so I asked Saeran, and this is what he said. Enjoy this Mother's Day one shot, please~





	First-Rate Misery

**Author's Note:**

> This actually has nothing to do with Mother's Day. It has to do with Momma Choi, though. And her sons.

  
_Weak._

When Saeran looks at his mother, his knees buckle. His hands shake. His mouth goes dry. His mind fogs up to the point where it becomes too hard to think, and then to walk, and then to stay awake. He doesn't mind. He'd rather be dreaming of lies then having to live through this nightmare.

_Weak!!_

If there's anything in his hand while he's under her gaze, it'll slip through his fingers and fall to the floor. This has happened many times—toys, clothes, cleaning supplies—it's all just background noise when his mom starts yelling. Once, he was carrying a glass, and it shattered at his feet after a hysteric shriek from his mother at the TV. She made him walk through the bits of glass back to his room, and then she promptly ordered him to clean up the mess. He and Saeyoung were picking shards out of his feet for the next two weeks.

Ah, Saeyoung. Another thing that slipped though his fingers.

_You're so weak._

Saeyoung had been missing for three years, now. He had run away from the poisonous Choi house without his beloved twin, all because Saeran was weak. He had gotten tired of protecting Saeran at his own expense, so he had just left him behind, at the mercy of his mother. At least, that's the story Saeran had been telling himself all this time. It motivates him to be stronger and work harder—if his twin could escape this life, why couldn't he?

But that wasn't the truth. Saeran really couldn't escape. He was the weaker one, and Saeyoung was the smarter one. The witty one. The brave one. He had the guts to jump in front of Saeran and save him from a slap, or steal the keys from his mother's room and let Saeran out of the closet. Every piece of happiness Saeran had ever tasted was thanks to Saeyoung. Now that he was gone, what was he supposed to do? He could never learn to read and make lots of money, or go outside and talk to people. No way. All there was left to do was die, rotting in Mommy's closet.

These thoughts comforted Saeran beyond belief. He would daydream of the day when he wouldn't have to live anymore. When he died, Saeyoung said they would go to heaven. Saeran could leave early and meet him there, right? One day, maybe tomorrow, maybe when his mom decided to cross the line of _tipsy_ and into _hammered_ , it would all end for him. He knew that his mom had been drinking for so long that regular beer barely affected her anymore, but maybe she would reel in a rich man. She would laugh at his jokes, he would buy her plenty of expensive drinks, and she would come back wielding a cracked bottle so that she could hit a homerun straight into Saeran's head, sending him directly to heaven.

It didn't sound too bad.

Saeran shifts on his bed, wincing when the creaks get a little too loud for his liking. There's a pair of rimmed glasses under his mattress. He grabs them absentmindedly and places them over his eyes. These had belonged to Saeyoung, but since their owner has abandoned them, Saeran has taken them for himself. Besides, he probably would have wanted Saeran to have them anyways. During the nights when Saeran feels down enough to consider ending his own life, he puts on the glasses. With them, he feels strong. Brave. Cunning. All the traits that Saeyoung had stolen from him, he could take back with those glasses on. Saeran stands to his feet.

_Weak!! Did I really give birth to such a weak kid?! You can barely stand up! You're not your father's son! You'll have to stay with me forever, since you can't even take care of yourself!_

Saeran slips on a pair of tattered shoes and strides down the hall. It's almost pitch-black, since their house has no windows, but he doesn't need the light. He's been stumbling throughout this house since birth, even more so after Saeyoung left. Saeran just turned fourteen, so he's officially a teenager, in his mind's eye. He's not weak anymore. His brother's been gone for three years, and Saeran is still standing tall without him. He's perfect! Just peachy!

_Why are you so weak?! He left because you're like this! You drove your brother away!! This is your fault!!_

Saeran is running. He turns into the living room, where his mother is sitting droopy-eyed in front of the TV. Her eyes dart up frantically upon his heavy steps, and she says quietly, "What do you think you're doing up? Get back to bed." It's a threat in the simplest form. Not subtle, but not worded. Saeran knows what will happen if he doesn't turn around at this crucial moment, but the glasses sit heavily over his nose. He can be brave. He can carve his own future out this, just like Saeyoung! He can escape this!

"Hey, what's that on your face? Out of bed, and stealing from Mommy? Give them to me right now. The glasses."

Ah, his head hurts. He feels dizzy, and his legs are ready to give out, but he can't turn back now. He'll regret it if he does. Saeyoung's counting on him. He can't be weak anymore.

"These... are..." Saeran swallows. His throat is so dry. When did he last drink anything? He licks his lips in an attempt to get his words to flow, but his tongue feels like sandpaper. "Th-they're not yours. Um... the glasses. They belong to Saeyoung." That's right. These glasses, the ones he's wearing, they belonged to his brother. His brother, who escaped this woman who called herself their mom. Saeran can escape. He has hope.

During the gaps in his speech, his mother has stood up from her lazy perch on the couch. Her fists are clenched by her side, hard enough that each one of her dull veins make a guest appearance on her forearm, popping up so vividly that it seems they'll break through her skin. One of her hands snatches the nearest object capable of harm—it's a thick belt, slung over the couch's armrest. The buckle is so rusty that it can cut more deeply than his mother's fake nails. Saeran briefly relives the time that buckle gave him tetanus and bedrid him for a month or two, and flexes his scarred back unconsciously.

His mouth still feels unbearably dry, but sweat is pooling at his palms. Did he even have a plan? What was the point of standing up to his mom if he had no idea what to do next?

"What did I say about speaking his name?! Everything here belongs to me! How dare you talk to me that way! I-I've raised you all this time!" His mother screams at him, stalking towards him, the belt looped around her hand. Her steps are heavy and the floorboards whine in protest, begging for mercy, but she keeps creeping towards him. Walking. Bulldozing. Towering above him, now. The belt blocks all vision. Then, there is no vision. He sees red.

Saeran slams into his mom, hissing when the belt still strikes his shoulder. He pushes her down into the floor, where the floorboards are now shrieking with their weight, but he can't hear it. Saeran only hears one thing.

_You're so weak._

Something is in his hand, and he grips it tightly. It hurts. He hears nothing, but the everything. The noise in his head is so loud that he screams to block it out. Saeran isn't the only one screaming—his mother is raging beneath him, waving the belt around frantically in attempt to beat her son off of her. The floorboards scream. The TV screams. Saeran thinks of a nursery rhyme his brother told him: _I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!_

His screams melt into laughter.

"Saeyoung, Saeyoung, Saeyoung!! Do you hear me, Mommy?! I'm saying his name!" Saeran laughs and laughs, even as a warm liquid seeps from his hand and stains whatever he's clutching so hard. Garbled, incoherent curses stream from the frantic woman he's wrestling. Saeran grunts and is suddenly kissing the foot of the couch, and he sputters in disgust as rotten booze and dust bunnies force their way into his lungs. An angry howl sounds from his mom, and he can actually hear the whoosh of wind and her foot is embedded in his back and color burst across his eyes the scars on his back sing and it hurts so much his whole body is in some sort of electric pain and this was a _terrible_ idea what was he _thinking he can't do this someone help someone saeyoung saeyoung save me_

_weak_

The thing in his hand—he learns later that it's called a _double-hinged cork screw_ which is some fancy word for _bottle opener_ —is part of him now. Rika tells him this story all the time, using the same words over and over: _"The blade was so deep in your hand, it was part of you. You didn't let it go until we gave you the salvation medicine, hehe."_

Saeran's heart races in circles, and he's drunk on adrenaline the way his mom is drunk on rage, among other things. Her foot connects with his back one more time, and then Saeran scrambles to a standing position. The pain shooting up his spine almost knocks him down again, but he touches the glasses on his face to give him strength. He repeats that name over and over, feeling it give him the will to plunge that knife into her chest.

"Sae-young! Sae-young! Mommy, do you hear me? Do you hear me?! Listen to me!!" Every part of him is on fire. Red taints his vision, until he isn't sure if his mom is actually covered in blood, or if it's just that weird red filter covering his eyes. He plunges the knife, or whatever sharp thing is his hand, into her face, her chest, her shoulders. He swings it at everything in sight.

" _MOMMY! I DIDN'T MAKE HIM GO AWAY! YOU DID! THIS IS YOUR FAULT, MOMMY!!_ " Saeran hears someone shrieking out these words, and it takes a puzzled moment to realize that it's him. But, he's right, isn't he? It was never his fault. It was _her_ fault. Mommy was so mean to both of them, but especially his brother. This was long overdue, wasn't it? Saeyoung could come back now! Saeran made her go away instead! Saeyoung doesn't have anything to be afraid of anymore!

It's definitely her that's covered in blood, he observes. Hot, dark liquid flows into Saeran's hands. Another run downs his legs, but Saeran is too preoccupied to notice the puddle of urine pooling at his feet. His mom, the one who locked him up in the closet of stuffy coats, the one who made him stand naked in the kitchen for hours on end, the one who sat him in an ice water bath until he learned from his mistakes...

There's still someone screaming. Saeran frowns and looks around, but him and his battered mother are the only people home. He grabs a pillow from the couch and presses it over her mouth experimentally, but to no avail. The sounds blares on. Then he shuts his mouth. Oh, it was him again. Whoops.

_Who's weak? Mommy, who's weak? Me?_

Saeran isn't weak. Not anymore. The glasses have slipped down his face, and they hang lopsidedly on the bridge of his nose, slick with sweat. He plops down on the floor, now feeling he pain in his back quite strongly, but not enough to focus on it. No, his mom is...

"Hey, do you hear me? Mommy?"

He's sits on his knees. His pajamas are soaked with piss, but that feeling of repulsion has also taken a backseat to the panic he's feeling. Saeran feels justice, because this is what his mom deserves, but he also feels... what? What is the pain in his chest?

Is he alone, now?

"Mommy... wake up, wake up, wake up." When she doesn't, Saeran takes to shaking her shoulders. She's heavy, and she stinks, but he throws his arms over her shoulders and squeezes her tightly. Sometimes she would let him onto the couch next to her, and without saying a word, would tell Saeran that she was glad he was there. Most of the time, she hated him, but Saeran lived for those quiet moments next to his mom. He really was on his own after this. His mom favorited Saeran, so she let him eat and drink, sometimes. Who was going to let him do that now? His brother? Ha. His mother? Dead.

Dead because of Saeran. He did it again. Drove another person away.

He cries into her shoulder, squeezing the life out of her already lifeless body. Saeran doesn't remember much after that—the pain of his activities had caught up with him, and he fell asleep in his mother's arms.

_It was disguisting,_ he thinks, now that he can look back on his days in that house. _Gross and dirty. What a stupid little teen I was. That woman too, she was stupid. And gross. And dirty._

When Saeran awakes, there is light coming from the Outside. He squints at the door, having not seen it opened for a quite a while, and a shadow moves in front of the blinding sunlight. A girlish figure, with long hair and rounded curves, grins. A man with light hair and a horrified expression covers his mouth. They both seem to be at least a decade older than Saeran, but also one decade younger than his mother.

"Rika, call an ambulance! I'll take care of the kid," The tall man says firmly, but there's an obvious shake to his voice. Saeran thinks he sounds silly for trying to act so brave when his hands are trembling like that. His shoulders are attempting to be broad, and his chest tries to puff out, but he has the intimidation of a butterfly and the firmness of a cupcake.

The woman still had an unsettling smile on her face, and she places her hand on Cupcake's chest. " _No_." That's all she says, but Saeran wants to listen to her. The woman—Rika, Cupcake called her—sounds brave, and the man seems to bend to her will as well, though uneasiness lines his features.

"Saeran, right? It's nice to meet you. I'm Rika," She says amiably, stretching out a small hand to him. Saeran is still sitting in his mother's lap. He isn't quite sure if he's in trouble or not, but a voice in the back of his mind tells him that this isn't normal—to walk into a house and see a fourteen-year old covered in blood and seated in their dead mother's arms. Saeran shakes her hand and notes that the blood staining him is all dry. His pants are still wet, and now that he's conscious, the smell of piss is strong. He coughs.

Rika pulls him to his feet while she has a hold on his hand, and Saeran wobbles for a moment before falling back to the floor. His back is killing him, and he has a faint sense that the blood on his clothes doesn't just belong to his mom. Rika must sense this too, because she looks worried. "Poor thing. This woman left you, and so did your brother. But you were brave, Saeran. Brave and strong," She says smoothly, attempting to ruffle his hair, and recoiling when he flinches. Saeran stares at her, mouth agape, mind racing. Who is this girl? How does she know about him? Why does he feel at peace but uneasy at the same time?

Saeran looks behind him, and it all starts sinking in. He killed someone. His mother, he killed his mother. She's slumped over a pile of deflated cardboard pizza boxes, dents in her pale skin forming purple and blue and all the colors of some twisted rainbow. _I made those dents_ , Saeran thinks with a shudder. Her eyes are open, but the pupils have rolled up, and the resulting view is just creepy whites glazing over, staring at some organ inside his mom's messed-up head. This image will stay in Saeran's brain for the rest of his life.

The blonde lady extends her hand once more. "Saeran, I can give you a new life. A better one, where your days are full of happiness, and life is an everlasting part—"

"Rika, please. He just lost his mother."

"V, be quiet."

Cupcake looks like he wants to say more, but he stops speaking. Rika plants a kiss on his cheek, which makes Saeran want to throw up, for some reason. He thinks of the body behind him, and actually does throw up.

"Oh my God. Rika, let's take him home. We can decided who to call about the mother after we—"

"V!" Rika yells. Saeran winces and almost chokes on his vomit, which smells disguisting mixed with the waft of his piss-stained spot on the floor, and the repulsive smell is on its way into a _stench_ and are those _flies around his mother what are they doing to her she's already dead he killed her he killed his own mother why did he do that how did he do that_

"Shit! Shit! Shit" Saeran yells, copying the hair-pulling motion his mother makes when she hangs up the house phone. His mind is fogging up again, and everywhere hurts. His head, especially. Before he can do anything else, Rika is behind him, pressing some sort of sharp object into his skin. It sinks it, and something else sinks in with it. Saeran's vision fades to black.

**

"And then I brought you here. I cleaned you up, gave you the salvation medicine, and now we live in paradise together!" Rika smiled. Saeran felt a smile twitching at his lips as well. Her hand brushed over his forehead soothingly, sifting through the dyed strands of his hair. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, ducking so that her head did not touch the top bunk. It was almost curfew, and Saeran's roommate had not returned, so he had asked Rika to tell him the story. The story of when she saved him. Since Saeran was someone who needed saving, and Rika was the Savior who could give it to him.

"Saeran, a lot of this was thanks to the Savior, but it's also thanks to you. You were so brave. It's sad, but sometimes we have to sacrifice for the greater good. Not many people have what it takes to make those sacrifices, but you did. Because of your sacrifice, and your mother's, many people in Mint Eye get to enjoy your presence and skills. Especially me. You were always my favorite, Saeran," Rika recited with the ease of a dedicated actor who had morphed into their role. Saeran said nothing. He reveled in the fact that he was her favorite. Not his bastard of a brother, if he was even that, but Saeran. Saeyoung, who was off in some secluded corner of the city living as 707, wasn't her favorite. Saeran. Saeran. It was him.

"Thank you, Savior," Saeran said, and it was the first time in a long while that he had been so geniuine. Rika smiled in return, then sighed and stood from his bottom bunk. "Hopefully that was the last time you ask me for that story. It's getting old, Saeran."

"Yes, Savior."

"I'll send in a disciple with your medicine. Have a blissful sleep."

"Thank you, Savior... um, goodnight."

Rika twirled around and gave him a coy grin, the one she had greeted him with at the door of his mother's house, then left his sight. Saeran took out his meds—he hadn't finished his previous supply, but he wouldn't turn away the bum who brought him more—and gulped them down. The pressure building in his head slowly began to fade, the accompanying migraine deflating along with it. Saeran layed his head down and wondered where his mother was. Looked at his hands. Clean. Pure. They may have murdered his mom, but it was for the best. It was justice.

Saeran fell into a deep sleep, and dreamt of his mother, screaming, " _MY SON! WHY DID YOU LET THEM KILL ME?! WHY DID YOU KILL ME?!_ " And when he responds that her sacrifice was for the best, adding in a whimper of "you deserved this," she shrieks, " _YOU DESERVE THIS! YOU'LL NEVER GO TO PARADISE!! YOU'LL BURN IN HELL WITH ME!!_ " and Saeran thanks his Savior that the meds soon shut his brain into a state of dreamless unrest.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, Rika twisted him up, but Saeran was already plenty twisted. I imagine it like this:
> 
> Saeyoung meets Rika and V around the age of nine (eight in international ages) and studies for two years, leaving by the time he's eleven. Saeran is fourteen when he ends up killing his mother (perhaps by other methods, or accidentally, but I was feeling gorey :)), and is then picked up by Rika. Rika's impressed, V's horrified. He's a deprived kid, so when V takes his pictures, he looks little.
> 
> Thank you for reading! All feedback is appreciated, especially if you want to talk headcanons ^^ hope you enjoyed it!


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